


The Door You Closed

by IJM



Category: General Hospital
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-12-26 02:42:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18274166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IJM/pseuds/IJM
Summary: What happens when Elizabeth's mother walks back into her life?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not for profit.  
> No claim of ownership of characters/settings.
> 
>  
> 
> I'm posting the first two parts in one chapter.

 The Webber-Baldwin family were enjoying a homemade dinner when the doorbell rang. The oldest son, Cameron volunteered to answer the door.

“Ms. Jerome,” he said, allowing her to come inside.

Ava Jerome breezed in. Franco quickly met her, concerned that the state of her sobriety might be an issue. He did not want her drunken ramblings to be heard by the kids. He asked her in a whisper if she had been drinking and sniffed to see if her see if she smelled of liquor.

“No, I have not!” Ava answered in her normal volume.

Franco glanced at Elizabeth. “Are you here for business, or do you need to talk…” he let the question hang.

“I’m here because you are going to make us rich.”

“I am?” he asked, skeptically.

“Why don’t you join us for dinner,” Elizabeth offered politely. She got up and got another place setting.

“Oh, I,” Ava was unsure. “Well, why not? I can’t remember the last time I ate a home cooked meal. Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble,” Elizabeth told her. “With this crew, we always make enough to feed a small army.” She made Aiden move down a seat so Ava could sit next to Franco.

Ava seemed a little uncomfortable sitting down to a family dinner. She turned to Aiden, “I hope you have made some kind of delicious dessert, because we will have to celebrate.”

“What are we celebrating?” Aiden asked eagerly.

“Cam is going to Harvard!” she announced, puzzling everyone.

“Wait. What?” he asked. “I haven’t even applied—”

“Okay.  Notre Dame, Princeton, wherever you want.”

“Ava, what are you talking about?” Franco asked.

“Money,” she said, dragging out the word. Your money. Lots of it. Your last show paid for Kiki’s tuition.”

“I’m not having a show.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Ava corrected him. She tried the spaghetti. “This is good.”

“WE are having an art show. Your art. My gallery. Just like the old days, only better. I have received over 200 requests for your work since your run in with that very, very awful human being.”

“They know who Ryan Chamberlain is,” Franco told Ava.

She fake spit to the side. “He who must not be named.”

“I don’t have 200 show quality pieces.”

“Fantastic!” Ava said. “That just increases the competition among the buyers and ups the overall profit. What about 80? Can you give me 80?”

“You don’t ask for much,” Franco scoffed. That was quite a lot of work to put on display at one time.

“Franco, I have interested customers from all over the world. Europe, Japan, Dubai, Australia. You’re the hot topic of the art world. If you randomly throw some paint on a canvas, I can sell it right now.”

Franco looked to Elizabeth. “What do you think?”

“Obviously I know you’re not going to display anything that isn’t show worthy, but you do have a lot of pieces in storage.” She shrugged, “Ava’s right about striking while the iron is hot. I know you’re not frivolous, but anything that can benefit our family is fine with me. Cam’s going to get his SAT scores up to get into Princeton though.”

“Gee, no pressure,” Cam said dryly.

“So, we have a deal?” Ava asked.

“I will review and get back to you. In the meantime, you can get with my dad to see about buyer’s contracts and the business side.”

“Franco, can I put some of my drawings on display?” Jake asked hopefully.

“Oh my god!” Ava exclaimed. “That’s brilliant! Franco had his apprentice stepson making his debut into the art world at the tender age of… what are you, ten?”

“Eleven.”

“Eleven.” Ava repeated. “This just keeps getting better.” Her enthusiasm was contagious.

“It’s okay?” Jake asked wide-eyed.

“That is your mother’s decision,” Franco deferred.

Elizabeth tossed it back to Franco. “You’re his parent too and art shows are your area of expertise. What do you think?”

Franco smiled. “I would love for Jake to have the opportunity to show his art in a real gallery.”

“Wait,” Ava interrupted. “Is it good enough?”

“Some of it is,” Franco answered.

“Yes!” Jake shouted, fist-pumping the air.

“Of course, we need to talk about the kinds of people art shows attract.”

“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked.

“Overly rich, snobby, entitled elitists who will insult you and your work while you’re standing next to them. You have to be able to withstand some criticism and you also have to realize that some of the people who tell you you’re brilliant to your face will call you a hack when you walk away.”

“I can handle it,” Jake said. “I’ll be the one with the painting on the wall, not them.”

Franco laughed. “That’s one way to look at it. I imagine any kind of artist gets the same treatment, whether it’s a musician or a writer. Arts are wonderful, but fads and fashions are fickle. People who are consumers and not makers of art, don’t really have the same perspective.”

“When do you want this show to happen?” Elizabeth asked.

“As soon as possible. I’ll get the word out that it’s in the plans. You figure out what we’re going to display. I’ll send invitations to the perspective buyers while the buzz is buzzing. There’s no telling who might show up!”

 

Chapter 2

With input from his family and Ava, Franco provided the Jerome Gallery with about thirty works that they agreed were show quality. They also helped Jake pick his best painting to display. Franco explained to him that he couldn’t keep it and sell it too. He had to be willing to let it go if he was going to sell it. Jake thought about it, but he decided he was more excited about being featured in a real art gallery than he was emotionally attached to his work.

The night of the show, Jake was eager to get to the gallery. Elizabeth introduced the kids to the idea of being “fashionably late.” It went against her years of teaching them to be punctual.

Elizabeth was wearing a long, sleeveless ivory dress with a crimson floral applique. Franco was wearing a tuxedo and the boys had donned their best suits.

“My work looks like Far Side cartoons compared to you,” Franco told Elizabeth.

“Excuse me?” Elizabeth asked playfully. “I happen to be the main feature of your art.”

“But not the stuff we’re selling,” he whispered, his lips close to her ear.

When the Webber-Baldwins entered the gallery, they were asked to pose for photographs. Franco and Jake took several photos together, promoting him as an up and coming artist. The child was giddy with the attention.

Ava made sure cocktails were flowing as the many guests made their way through the exhibit. There was a correlation between the flow of alcohol and the flow of the cash. She had learned that early in her career.  

Scotty was milling about the room, feeling out perspective buyers and the competitiveness of the market. He got to brag about his son saving lives by going undercover to catch a serial killer.

Ava brought the murmuring crowd to silence when she introduced Franco and his family. “The Jerome Gallery is thrilled to, once again, bring you the work of Franco Baldwin. And we have the distinct pleasure of introducing a new star to the art world, Jake Webber. But I’ll let you say more about that,” she said, handing the microphone to Franco.

“Thank you for being here,” he started. He usually hated this part, but he was proud of what he had to say tonight. “I want to introduce you to my beautiful wife, Elizabeth and our boys: Cameron, Jake, and Aiden. These four people make life worth living, worth fighting for. The painting I am most pleased to see displayed tonight is this one.” He motioned to Jake’s painting. “This was created by Jake. I think he has a bright future ahead, whether he pursues art or anything else. Would you like to say something?” he asked Jake.

Jake took the microphone. “This is really awesome,” he said. “I met Franco a few years ago when he helped me with some problems. He taught me how to express myself with art. And then my mom fell in love with him and now he’s my dad, like a real dad who makes me breakfast and tells me to brush my teeth before bed. So, I think he’s pretty cool and I want to be just like Franco when I grow up.” He handed the microphone back.

“Let’s hope he’s not JUST like me,” Franco joked.  “Thank you for being here.”

Ava spoke to the patrons again. “If you have questions, we will be working the room as they say. Feel free to ask me, Franco, the lovely Mrs. Baldwin, or the one and only Scott Baldwin any questions. Bidding closes at 10:00 p.m. sharp. Enjoy the evening.”

Elizabeth stayed by Jake’s painting for a moment, taking in the fact that her son had a painting featured in a major art gallery with heavy-hitting buyers showing interest. She would have been just as proud if his painting had been hanging on her wall, but she was overjoyed that he had this opportunity. She was so grateful that art therapy had brought Franco into their lives. She thought her heart might burst.

“He’s talented.”

Elizabeth was surprised by the voice. “Jason,” said, turning to him. “Yes, he is. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Jake told me about the show and asked me to come see his painting. I couldn’t say no to that.”

Elizabeth gave him about half a nod. She was unimpressed by his presence tonight for a big event since he was absent for all the little things.

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take my son calling Franco the person who is like a real dad to him.”

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” Elizabeth snapped. “Don’t worry about Jake. He’s fine. He’s happy. And you don’t have to take responsibility which leaves you free to kiss Sonny and Carly’s asses like the good little lap dog you are. So, we’re all where we want to be to be happy.” She walked away, wondering what she had ever seen in him in the first place. He had not changed or grown as a person in two decades.

Scott approached a woman he didn’t recognize from any of the previous events or any of the society pages he had been studying to get a feel for who might be present. “Good evening,” he said.

“This is fascinating,” the brunette commented, studying an abstract work. “There’s a message in this, but I can’t quite figure out what it’s saying.”

“It’s saying, ‘I’m for sale,’” Scott told her dryly.

She turned and looked at Scott for the first time. She smiled. “So, you must be Scott Baldwin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She offered her hand.

Instead of shaking her hand, Scott lightly kissed it. “The pleasure is mine. But I’m afraid you have an advantage since I don’t know a name to associate with your beautiful face.”

“Carolyn Miles,” she replied.

“Are you from Port Charles?”

“My permanent address is in California, but I have been here before. It’s been a while.”

“I’m glad you decided to come here tonight.”

“So, Franco is your son?”

“My son and my most frequent client,” he told her with a sparkle in his eye.

“Off course, I’ve heard stories,” Carolyn started. “You know, you can see a difference in his work after that brain tumor was removed. Is it true he’s like a completely different person now than when he made his debut into the art world?”

“I think that’s pretty evident to anyone who looks,” Scotty told her. “He’s been through a lot of dark times. Now, he’s happy. His family means everything to him.”

“It takes a special man to step in and take responsibility for other men’s children.”

Scotty wasn’t sure how to take that. How did she know the boys had different fathers? And was she insulting Elizabeth or complementing Franco? Or both?

“What about this one?” Carolyn asked Scott. There were variations of black and silver that radiated from a focal point. “I feel like there is a great pain here, but hope breaking through.”

“That’s appropriate,” Franco told her. He had seen Scotty was focused on her and decided to join the conversation.

“It’s quite beautiful,” Carolyn said. “It makes me think of the vastness of the galaxy expanding into the universe. Darkness, but bits of light and hope if you keep forging through. I feel this painting. I have to have it.” She turned to Scott. “What do I need to bid to ensure this is mine?”

Scott inhaled. “I’m not allowed to tell people what to bid,” he said. “I wish I could.”

Franco laughed. “Because you’d inflate all the values.”

“It’s not necessary tonight, my dear boy. Anyone who flew in for this show is pretty determined to take something home with them. And there are more of them than there are pieces to take.”

“Twenty-five thousand,” Carolyn offered.

Scotty was non-committal, but he unlocked his notebook and added Carolyn’s bid.

“It’s not high enough,” Carolyn fretted. “Okay, $125,00.”

Scotty looked up, bug eyed. Franco nearly dropped his drink. Her jump from the first bid to the second amount was shocking.

“Am I good?” she asked. “You can just give me a hint.”

“You’re good,” Franco told her. “At least, I think you are. I’ll be sure to write a personal thank you on the back for you. I’m sorry—I didn’t catch your name.”

“Carolyn Miles.”

“Ms. Miles. Hold on,” Franco said. He noticed Elizabeth had been trapped in a conversation with Sonny and Carly while Cam and Joss were making heart eyes at each other. “I’ll be right back.”

“May I steal my bride?” Franco asked as politely as he could muster. “I want to introduce you to someone.”

“Oh, okay. Well, enjoy yourselves,” Elizabeth told them. As soon as Sonny and Carly were out of earshot, she said, “Oh my god. Thank you for rescuing me.”

“What the hell are they doing here?” he asked softly.

“Trying to hang with the big boys. Status ploy. Sonny is going to leave this crowd feeling like a pauper. And I could kiss you right now.” Carly and Sonny had never been among her favorite people.

“I really do want to introduce you to someone. Come with me.”

Elizabeth saw Scott and a woman discussing the work in front of them.

“Ms. Miles,” Franco said. “This is my wife.”

“Oh, I know who she is,” Carolyn said.

Franco looked at Elizabeth whose face had drained of all color.

“Mother,” Elizabeth said, her voice heavy with a mix of emotions.

“Hello, Elizabeth.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Franco immediately knew that Elizabeth was not happy to see her mother. He called her name, but she stared at Carolyn. “Elizabeth, are you okay?”

“You’re Elizabeth’s mother?” Scotty asked, trying to help his son break the tension between the women.

“I am,” Carolyn responded.

“Come on,” Franco told Elizabeth, trying to get her to move away from this person who was causing her distress. He knew the look in her eyes. She was hurt. She was angry. She was taken by surprise. “Baby, come on,” he took her hand.

Elizabeth snapped out of her daze and looked at her husband. “Take me home.” She sounded like a child.

He pulled her close and they walked away together. “Ava,” Franco saw her close by and got her attention.

“Are you okay?” Ava asked, when she saw how pale Elizabeth looked.

“She’s not feeling well. We need to leave. I’m going to get Elizabeth to the car and send Cam a text to get Jake and Aiden and meet us outside.”

“Do you really have to leave?” Ava was worried it could affect the showing if the artist disappeared.

“We really do,” Franco told her.

Ava could see that Franco was supporting Elizabeth. “Maybe you need to go to my office. She looks like she’s going to pass out. Can I get you some water or something to eat?” Ava asked Elizabeth.

Elizabeth swayed a bit. Franco realized Ava’s office was the best option for now. He supported her but tried not to call attention to them.  

“Come on,” Ava led them to the office and told them she would lock the door.

Franco asked her to watch for the boys. He gently helped Elizabeth get to the couch. It was one that looked like it was designed for fashion rather than comfort, but it was better than nothing.

“What do you need?” he asked.

Elizabeth shook her head.

“Talk to me?” he encouraged her. He was kneeling on the floor to look her eye to eye.

Elizabeth was silent, but her tears spoke. Franco got up and sat with her and wrapped his arms around her. “What happened?” he asked.

He knew it had been more than twenty years since Elizabeth had seen her mother. When he tried to plan a “dream wedding,” she nixed the idea of her parents attending and gave the explanation that they “just weren’t close.” Any time he tried to find out more, she changed the subject and he was astute enough to realize that she did not want to discuss it. Despite her “no secrets” request, he realized that her parents were part of her past that he shouldn’t press her about—until now.

“I didn’t expect her to show up,” Elizabeth answered, her voice near a whisper.  She squeezed Franco’s hand for strength. “I can’t… It’s like seeing a ghost from a past that I want to forget. I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything. She hasn’t been there for you for anything in the last twenty years. You don’t owe her anything, not your time, not your love, not anything. She abandoned you and never once showed up when you needed a mother.”

“I want to ask her why.” Elizabeth told him. “I’ve never known.”

“Okay, then, we’ll do that. I’ll be right beside you. I won’t let her cause you any more pain than she already has.”

“I don’t know if you can prevent that,” Elizabeth knew that no matter what her mother’s reasoning was, it would hurt. She didn’t know if it would hurt more than wondering about it for the rest of her life though.  More than two decades of emotional scars had just been ripped anew.

He nodded. “We’ll get through it.” He kissed her forehead. “Together. Like we do anything that life wants to throw at us. You are not alone now and never will be again, not as long as I’m alive.”

She put her head on his shoulder and let her tears flow. He held her, rubbed her back, played with her hair, and told her to just let it out. She had been carrying this burden for a long, long time. When her emotions started to settle, he took the handkerchief that was part of his fancy suit and dabbed her eyes and cheeks.

“Your mascara’s a mess,” he told her, trying to make her smile. He tried to wipe away the black smudges. “I think I’m making it worse,” he admitted. “My little gopher is looking like a raccoon.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Let me,” she said. She took a mirror out of her bag. “Oh, my goodness,” she said to her reflection. “I should invest in some waterproof.”

“Nope,” Franco argued. “No one is going to make you cry like this again on my watch.”

“I love you for wanting to protect me,” she kissed his cheek. The white handkerchief was blotted mess now.

Ava knocked on the door and then came in. “Is everything okay?” she asked. “Oh, hon, let me fix you up,” she offered. She opened her desk and found some makeup remover.

Franco backed away to let Ava work some magic.

“I’ve got the boys just outside the door,” she told them. “I wasn’t sure if you needed more time alone…”

“Let them in,” Elizabeth told her husband.

When he opened the door for the kids to come into the room, they all quickly went to their mom.

“What’s wrong,” Jake asked.

“Why are you crying?” Aiden wanted to know.

“What happened?” Cameron asked. All three of them spoke at the same time.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and Ava stepped away. She had managed to remove the messy mascara.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Elizabeth started. “Come here, come sit down with me and your dad,” she motioned for all her boys to come to her. Franco sat with her, holding her close.

“Your grandmother is here,” she told them.

They all looked very confused.

“Grandma Laura?” Jake asked.

“No, honey, my mother.”

“Your mother is alive?” Cameron asked. “Why haven’t we met her? Why don’t you talk about her?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I don’t have anything to say about her.”

“But you always said you were raised by Gram.” Cameron said.

“I was. I haven’t seen my mother in a very long time.”

“Where’s she been?” Aiden asked.

Elizabeth shrugged. “I’m not really sure.”

“Did she make you cry?” Jake was upset to see his mother upset.

She nodded. “I was… shocked. I had not idea she would be here and it just… brought back some old feelings.”

“She hurt you?” Cameron was ready to go tell off this woman. He didn’t care who she was. She meant nothing to him.

“Not physically,” Elizabeth said. “I just haven’t heard from her in so long and she’s never been around. I’m shocked that she’s here.”

“Well, I don’t like her,” Cameron announced. “She can just go back wherever she came from because we don’t need her if she couldn’t show up until now.”

“I feel the same way you do, Cam,” Franco told him. “But your mother has to do what’s best for her. Maybe she wants closure or to work things out. Whatever your mom wants, we’re going to support her and make sure she always knows she’s loved, regardless of anything her mother has said or done or _will ever_ say or do.”

Cam nodded. He gave Franco a look of understanding. Between them, they would do everything possible to protect Elizabeth.

Ava had slipped out while the family were talking. She still had a job to do.

“How do I look?” Elizabeth asked.

“Like yourself,” Franco answered. “No raccoon eyes at all.”

She nodded. “Good. Let’s all get back out there and make it through the night. Stick by us. If she comes near us, I won’t engage with her. She’s not going to ruin this night for us. Do you all understand? Do not confront her, speak to her, or go anywhere near her. I’ll show you who she is so you can avoid her. We have two artists in this family and this night is about being proud of their work.”

The boys nodded.

“We don’t have to stay,” Franco told her.

She gave him the _wife_ look.

“No, you’re right. We do have to stay. You heard your mother,” he said to the boys. “Together, we’re invincible.”

Elizabeth took his hand as they went back into the main part of the gallery. “Thank you,” she said. “I couldn’t handle this on my own.”

“I’m sure you could,” he reminded her. “But you don’t have to.”

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Elizabeth woke up in the early morning hours. It was one of those rare weekends when none of the kids had any specific plans which meant everyone would be able to sleep late. She usually relished these mornings, but she was not feeling content at all.

She stared at the ceiling. The only light in the room came from a digital clock on the dresser. It was just enough illumination that she could make out the figures of the furniture. She remembered that when she was a child, she would lay awake and wonder if the furniture shadows would morph into vicious animals like bears or dinosaurs. It had been years since that thought had been entertained. Seeing her mother must have triggered the memory.

The rest of the evening at the gallery had gone well enough. Scotty and Ava would probably be working on the business aspects all weekend, but Scotty told her that Carolyn had been outbid. Elizabeth took impish delight in knowing that Carolyn would not get something she wanted—especially something created by her husband.

Franco had been amazing the night before. He made himself a shield between her and Carolyn for the rest of the event. He had been like a Great Pyrenes herding the family away from a wolf.  Eventually Carolyn left. Elizabeth supposed her mother was staying at the Metro Court.

When they got home, Elizabeth was experiencing a kind of high from having this man take care of her any way he could. She was unaccustomed to having someone to fight her battles with her. She thought Franco had expected her to break down from her emotions again when they were alone. Instead, she had instigated some fireworks in their bed. Maybe because she had so many emotions to work out, she needed the physical release.

His steady breath told her that Franco was asleep. She scooted closer to him but didn’t wake him. She inhaled deeply and stared at the ceiling, creating potential reasons that Carolyn had shown up after so many years had passed.

Maybe she was dying and wanted to make amends. Or maybe she was dying and wanted to poach an organ from a blood relative. Maybe the press surrounding the art show had drawn her attention to Port Charles. Elizabeth didn’t remember Carolyn having any interest in art before. Of course, she didn’t know her mother’s last name was Miles now either. She appeared to be unaccompanied at the gallery.

Elizabeth continued to imagine her mother’s motives. Maybe Mr. Miles had died, leaving her as a rich widow. Maybe Mr. Miles had introduced her to things like art and culture.

She wondered if Sarah knew that Carolyn was here. The least her sister could have done was sent her a text to warn her of the vulture swooping in. She imagined her mother’s face on the carrion bird.   

Then she pictured her mother as a black widow type. Maybe Mr. Miles had died because Carolyn had put arsenic in his oatmeal every morning for a year.

Elizabeth had not given so much thought to her mother in years. She realized she had a very poor opinion of her since she associated her mother with death, murder, organ poaching, wolves, vultures, and spiders. She shivered.

The sun was starting to rise, and a bit of light was peaking through the window. She had a sudden urge to draw her mother as a vulture. She hadn’t allowed herself time to draw in a while. Franco often asked her if she wanted to work on something together, but she always seemed to have something else more pressing to take care of. She remembered that Franco had told her some of his best work had been done in the middle of the night. She moved a bit, making sure not to wake him. She had a sketchpad and some charcoal pencils in her nightstand. She got them and her phone. She did a quick search for the offending bird because she wanted to make sure she drew something that would vaguely resemble it.

Her first strokes were hesitant. She had lost confidence when she stopped working regularly on her hobby. Eventually, she became engaged in what she was doing, and her picture took shape. It seemed right that Carolyn Faced Vulture was flying over a spewing volcano with lava running down into the unseen and unsuspecting village below. She wished she had some colored pencils handy, but she used varying shades of gray to create the imagine that was in her mind.

When she finished, she was pleased with it. It would never hang in the Jerome Gallery, but she felt better. She understood why Franco countered his infrequent urges to punch a wall — or a person — with some paint and a canvas.

Franco stretched and made a few of those “I don’t want to wake up” sounds that humans were prone to make. He yawned, opened his eyes and asked her what she was doing.

“Just drawing,” she said, tossing her picture on the bed face down.

“I want to see,” he said through another yawn. “How long have you been awake?”

“A while. My mind was racing.”

“I know those nights. You could have woken me up. I would have helped you think about things or listen or just held your hand.

“I know,” she replied. “But you’re so cute when you’re asleep.” She reached for her picture. “Don’t laugh.”

He took her picture and studied it. She waited nervously for him to comment. “Wow!” was all he said.

“Wow?” she asked. “What wow? Wow, this is bad?”

“Wow, this is intense. Your mother is death hovering over destruction. What did she do to hurt you so badly? Can you talk about it?”

“Nothing,” Elizabeth answered.

“Okay,” he replied. “If or when you decide you want to talk, I’m here.”

“I answered you,” Elizabeth clarified. “She did nothing. She stopped being my mother and sent me to live with Gram. She didn’t show any interest in me or my life. She didn’t show up when I was raped, when I got pregnant, when I had my children, when I got married, when I got divorced, when I thought my child had died, when I found out he was alive… She’s done nothing for years. Cam didn’t even realize she was alive. Talk about an absentee parent or grandparent.”

“I don’t understand why,” Franco told her. “How could a mother abandon you? You know, she’s the one with the problem, not you. You’re a wonderful person and an awesome mother.”

“Apparently, she disagrees with you.”

“You know, most people regret the things they didn’t do, not the things they did. Not me, of course. I regret things I did. But most people look back on their lives and say they wished they had taken that trip, asked that stranger for their phone number, given in to some temptations occasionally. Your mother must regret not being here for you. You will never know what that’s like, Elizabeth. You have always put your kids first. So, if nothing else, Carolyn taught you how not to be as a mother. Do you want to work things out with her?”

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth told him. “I think I need to figure out what she wants before I figure out what I want.”

She took her picture from Franco and set it to the side. “In the meantime, there’s one thing I know I want right now.”

“Me too,” he agreed. “I love being your husband.”


	4. Chapter 4

Elizabeth got Carolyn’s contact information from Scott. While she was a bit embarrassed that she did not have her own mother’s phone number, he assured her he understood distance that could evolve between family members over time. He did not tell her he had been the one to outbid Carolyn after he saw how Elizabeth had reacted to her.

Carolyn agreed to come to Elizabeth’s house to talk with her. Franco suggested Elizabeth might benefit from a “home field advantage.” She had no idea what direction the conversation would take, so meeting in a public place was risky. If the conversation degraded into tears or a screaming match, she did not want there to be witnesses to spread the gossip.  She also scheduled the visit for mid-morning on Monday when the kids would be back at school.

So, here she was sitting in the dining room, face to face with her mother. Franco was beside her, having taken the day off work like Elizabeth did. When she protested that she could handle her mother by herself, he reminded her that while she could, she didn’t have to.

“Why are you in Port Charles?” Elizabeth asked, wasting no time on small talk. She had been gracious enough to prepare them all a cup of tea. Beyond that token gesture, she was not feeling hospitable.

“I’ve been traveling and visiting museums. I heard about the art show. So, here I am.” Carolyn looked the part of a woman who traveled the world living extravagantly. She was draped in jewels and her clothes were obviously high-end fashion, though suitable for a woman her age. She was beautiful, but her eyes lacked any hint of warmth or kindness.

Elizabeth hoped she didn’t show how much that flippant answer had affected her. After all these years and all the good and bad things that had happened, Carolyn finally found her way to Port Charles for an _art show_?

“Oh,” Elizabeth responded, emotionless. “I guess that means you’re leaving soon.” Carolyn might not have noticed that she had hurt Elizabeth, but Franco had.

“Of course, I wanted to see you too,” Carolyn added like the afterthought it was.

“Why?” Elizabeth asked. “Why bother after all these years? The one thing that brings you to this city is art?”

“I know we haven’t been close,” Carolyn sighed. “But that’s hardly my fault.”

Elizabeth stirred some honey into her tea to give herself some time to gain composure. Her mother’s words were like ice water being poured over her body. “How is it my fault?” Elizabeth asked. There was a small tremble in her voice that Carolyn didn’t hear. “Really. I want to know. You sent me away when I was 15. I had to leave everyone and everything I ever knew and start over.”

“I didn’t know how to handle you,” Carolyn answered. She took a sip of her tea. “You were starting to act out, even trying to seduce the man I was involved with at the time. I thought sending you to your grandmother would help keep you out of trouble.” She shrugged, “Obviously, I was wrong.”

Elizabeth clenched her jaw in anger. She could feel that Franco was getting angry at Carolyn too, but she didn’t look at him. “I never tried to seduce your boyfriend.” She spat the words slowly. “What kind of nonsense are you talking about?”

Carolyn scoffed. “Don’t lie to me or to yourself. There’s no need to put on a show. Your husband knows you’re a slut. He still married you, even with your three kids and their three different fathers.”

Elizabeth was shocked and it physically hurt her to hear her mother make these accusations.

Franco had enough of Carolyn. “Do not speak to her like that,” he warned her.

Elizabeth reached for his hand. “I want to her to finish what she started, even if it is lunacy.”

“Lunacy?” Carolyn repeated. “You don’t remember how you would hang on Ken every time he came to our house, hugging him. I saw you sitting on his lap. How could you think a man wouldn’t notice that?”

Elizabeth remembered Ken. He had been friendly and always made her laugh. He was a bigger man and she always thought of him like a living teddy bear. There was no attraction between them. She had most definitely never tried to seduce the man. That kind of thing never even crossed her mind when she was so young.

“You’re crazy,” Elizabeth told her. “I was 14 when you were dating Ken. The only time I ever sat on his lap was my birthday when he joked about giving me some birthday whacks. I tried to run away, and he grabbed my arm. I slipped. It was nothing but pure silliness on both our parts. It was _nothing_.”

Carolyn gave no credence to what her daughter said. “So, I guess it’s just a coincidence that you came to Port Charles and got yourself raped within a year.” She used air quotes when she said _raped_. “It had nothing to do with you acting like a little tramp, asking for it.”

“Oh my god,” Elizabeth couldn’t believe her mother said that to her, or even thought that about her. “Are your serious?” She felt her heart racing. If this was all her mother thought of her, she was glad she had been absent for so long.

“That’s it,” Franco stood, incensed that this woman blamed Elizabeth for being raped and had the nerve to call her a slut. Carolyn was obviously no saint herself. “You need to go. You’re not going to hurt Elizabeth anymore than you already have.”

“Oh, she has you snowed,” Carolyn told him. “She’ll cheat on you like she does every other man in her life. I realize this is your first marriage, but I would think you would be a little bit wiser about women if it did take you this long to marry someone. I thought you would have been waiting for a worthy candidate.”

“Get out,” Franco told her. “You are cruel and selfish. If you got rid of your daughter because you thought she was a threat to a man staying in your life, then you have major problems, lady. Nobody is worth throwing away your kid. Even worse, if you got some vibe from him that he wanted to… do something to Elizabeth… then you should have sent him away because he was the problem. A decent mother would have protected her kid.”

Elizabeth stood as well, “Franco, she’s my mother.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He was so angry on her behalf. “I just—”

She stopped him mid-sentence. “Let me handle it,” she told him. She turned to her mother. “Get out, you psychotic witch. The only thing I regret now is spending so much of my life wondering why you didn’t love me. I’m glad you will never meet your grandchildren and they will never know how horrible you truly are.”

“Well, I see this trip was a waste of time,” Carolyn got up. Before she left, she turned to Elizabeth one last time, “Whatever happiness you have now, you’ll ruin it. You always do.  You can’t help but sabotage any good thing that comes to you or anyone else in your life.  You’ve always screwed up your life and the lives of everyone around you.  That isn’t going to stop now.”

After she walked out the door, Elizabeth slammed it shut. She screamed and sank to the floor in tears.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No claim of ownership of characters. No profits made.

Elizabeth sat on the floor crying hysterically over the things her mother had said. She felt gutted. She knew her mother didn’t care about her, but now that she knew Carolyn believed she was just a piece of trash… she had never even considered that her mother felt that way about her. She assumed Carolyn was too busy caring about other people in foreign lands or moving from one new romance to another to devote time to her.

Franco offered his hand to help Elizabeth get to her feet. “Get up,” he urged her. “That woman is not going to leave you crying on the floor in your own home.”

Elizabeth wiped her eyes with her shirt and her gaze met Franco’s. His eyes were expressive and showed nothing but love for her. Carolyn hadn’t changed his mind about her. She took his hand and stood. Then she promptly fell into his waiting arms.

Franco enveloped her with a hug. She was tiny and he sensed that she felt even smaller now. Her mother had ripped opened old wounds and the feelings were gushing forth. “I love you,” he told her softly, again and again.

She cried, her head against her husband’s chest. He was softly stroking her hair and rubbing her back as he held her. Elizabeth’s thoughts kept repeating what her mother had said. She was a slut. She got herself raped. She would cheat on Franco.

She looked up at him with tears welling in her blue eyes, “I’m not going to cheat on you,” she told him. “I’m not.”

He cradled her cheek with his hand, “I know that. I’m never going to cheat on you either.”

“But, you’re not a cheater. I am. I’ve done it to other men… what if I can’t help myself? What if it’s just who I’m destined to be?”

“Like me being born evil?” he asked.

“You were not born evil,” she told him. It was ridiculous for him to say so.

He gave her a quizzical look, “Okay… so how were you born a cheater?”

“I hate it when you do that,” Elizabeth said, pulling away from him. She took a deep breath and sat on the sofa.

“Do what?” he asked, sitting next to her. He held his arms open and she climbed into his lap. He held her, stroking her arm or playing with her hair every so often.

“Be all logical. That’s my job.” She thought it almost funny that she was going off on an emotional beatdown worthy of Franco’s self-esteem issues and he was turning her reasoning against her.

He shrugged. “Well, I have been paying attention.”

She sniffed and chuckled. She let herself rest against him. “Maybe I am everything she said. I swear I never set out in life to fail at one relationship after another.”

“No one sets out to fail. You aren’t the sole contributor to any relationship not working out. You didn’t set out in life to be abandoned by your parents or raped when you were practically a child either.”

“You think it’s related?” she asked bitterly.

“Well, yeah,” he answered. “Don’t you?”

She tilted her head, not sure what he meant. “Do tell.”

“Don’t you think you’ve spent your whole life looking for what we perceive a father is supposed to be: someone to protect you, someone to love you unconditionally?”

“Is that what you are?” she asked. “No… because you eventually realized you didn’t need a _father_ to tell you what to do or how to live or dictate your decisions. You needed a _partner_ to respect you as an individual and want you to be happy. And, yes, I do want to take care of you—to the extent that you’ll let me.”

She looked skeptical but considered what he was saying. Lucky had been a protector. He had rescued her. Nik, Jason, and Ric were all powerful men with resources. Maybe she had let them be in control and maybe she had looked to them to take care of her to some extent. She shrugged. “I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

‘Who hasn’t?” he asked.

“Some of us make more than others.”

“I’ll concede to that point,” he agreed. He sighed. “I’ve never met the man, but maybe the problem is your father.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, I assume with as many times as your parents broke up and got back together it wasn’t a healthy relationship. At some point, in a galaxy far, far away, your father was married to my mother. He married _Heather_ and he had a kid with _Heather_. He’s the ‘love of her life.’ He’s _got_ to have problems. Then there’s Naomi that he had an affair with and had Hayden. We met Naomi. Neither are especially good people. Maybe your dad has an attraction to crazy women. Maybe Carolyn is just his type. Carolyn has a mean streak and delusions about you that are Heather-worthy.  She’s self-absorbed and puts on airs like Naomi.”

“Hmmm,” Elizabeth pondered what he was saying. Jeff Webber had a history of affairs. He was, she thought, overall a good guy. He was doctor who helped the less fortunate overseas. But, at one point, her mother was that kind of person too. She had been working with him. Carolyn, on paper, sounded like a decent human being. At the same time, she had given up that lifestyle because she found it tedious and began drifting from one rich man to another. She shrugged. “I don’t even really know my parents,” she admitted.

“If Carolyn is any indication, you might be better off for it.”

“All these years… all this time wasted wondering why they didn’t care. I mourned for my children not having their grandparents in their lives.”

“DNA isn’t everything.”

“You’re not kidding.”

“Sometimes DNA means nothing… unless you accidentally fall in love with your long-lost sister who was given up for adoption. That could be problematic.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I really hope you’re not speaking from experience.”

“Nah,” he chuckled. “It just sounds like something that would happen in this crazy town. Liesl told me she freaked out one time because Nathan and Britt met each other and seemed to hit it off a little too well.” He laughed. “Nothing happened. Thank God she stepped in, right?”

“Oh my god,” Elizabeth shook her head. “I thought my family was warped.”

“Maybe all families are warped,” Franco offered.

“Ours isn’t,” Elizabeth affirmed. After a moment she added, “Well, maybe a little.”

“We’ll get through. Whatever it is that comes our way. Even Carolyn.”

Elizabeth shook her head and stood up. “That door is closed. I’ve lived without her going on 25 years. She’s not taking any more than a long weekend away from me now.”

Franco looked at his watch. “We still have a few hours before the kids get home.”

“Then, I think we should use them wisely,” Elizabeth told him.

He stopped her from heading upstairs for just a moment. “Hey… just in case there are any other feelings or problems or whatever related to her that you ever need to talk about—and I mean ever—I’m here.”

She moved toward him and tilted her head upward, “I know. And I’m so grateful. But, right now, the only thing I’m interested in feeling is you.”

“Happy wife. Happy life.” Franco told her, grinning. “Whatever you want, you get.”

“Well, I have been saving some ideas for when we were alone in the house…”

 

 

__End__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little shorter than I initially planned. I'm having major surgery in less than two weeks and won't be able to type for a while. Sorry! I hope you have enjoyed it.


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